Darkling (2 page)

“Good day.” A big grin covered his face. “My name is Oswald. I apologize for the interruption.”

If he knew my room number, he must’ve known my name. I surprised myself with my pleasant tone.

“Good day.” It was hard to be tough against his polished appearance. Any agitation that I had felt toward him started to fade. Oswald motioned to the sofas and we sat.

“Where is the old man?”

Oswald’s eyebrows raised, but he knew whom I meant.

“As a matter of fact, the reason I called you down here is to discuss our mutually interesting
person
,” he paused, as if searching for the right words. I couldn’t even imagine where this was heading.

“I work for a multinational corporation, but I’m of no significance in its hierarchy, so I must apologize if my knowledge is limited. The
person
you mentioned is of great interest to us, but there is a problem arranging communication with him. When the board saw the recordings of your encounter yesterday, they concluded that you might be the key to a dialogue. My job is to convince you to come with me so we may explain what we’d like you to do for us in greater detail, but you can consider it as a job offer of sorts.”

I didn’t answer right away. After a while, my silence started to be uncomfortable. But really, what could I possibly say to that? Polite-man shot me a supportive smile. I guess he was giving me time to process his request, but there was nothing to think about. I mean, the offer was completely absurd. I was thinking of all the horror movies I could fit into this paradigm. His face was pale and his joyful supportive eyes gave out the impression of trustworthy and sincerity.

“Your plane ticket would be taken care of and all expenses paid, of course.”

“This sounds like a scam,” I told him. “I don’t understand what you want from me. I ran into someone yesterday, and now you want to hire me? Why? And explain why you can’t just get in touch with him directly?!”

He smiled and leaned toward me. “
Persons
like the one you mentioned are of, let’s say, an untamed character and are unable to create quality dialogue with us. Therefore, we need people with the rare talent of empathy that are in tune with his race to help us.”

This conversation had rapidly turned into a bad Sci-fi channel movie.
His race? Really?
And Oswald said it with a straight face, still radiating pleasantness and trustworthiness.

“Race?” There was an edge to my voice.

“Yes. However, I am not at liberty to reveal anything further before you talk with my superiors. Your flight will leave in a couple of hours, and it is my responsibility to ensure that you be on it.”

“Is that a threat?” My tone didn’t surprise me, but his polite smile that followed definitely did.

“No need for that. If your safety worries you, it should not; you are perfectly safe. There are many ways that we can manipulate or coerce, but we would never force you against your will. The decision is up to you, but it’s my job to try to convince you.”

“That could take a while. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”

“It’s a private jet. Time is flexible.”

“So, what does your corporation do?” I asked.

“It holds many companies in various industries. For example, my job is to hunt for special clients.”

“And the old man is special?”

“Very much so,” his tone was mild. “But you will know more tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“It’s a long flight.”

I had more questions, but the more we talked, the more I realized that I would eventually succumb to Oswald’s persuasion. Both of us could smell my defeat. The charm of this man was enough to lure virgins into the Centaur’s lair—and they would go with a smile. I went along too, but at least I was wary enough not to smile.

Boarding the jet, I tried to shrug off a mixture of anger and frustration. After all, it was as he said: I was going of my own free will. Amen to the whole thing, whatever it might be.

I wasn’t frightened during the flight. Maybe I was going to the meeting or maybe to slaughter, but for some absurd reason I didn’t feel any fear. Oswald Gray was still looking like a person worth of my trust, and I thought that the whole arrangement seemed way too ritzy for me to end up in some German brothel. His last name reminded me of my initial thought on my road trip—that I needed to find my own shade of gray. In light of the events that would follow, I would later realize that he was my White Rabbit. Even his time was ticking.

Against my better judgment, I fell asleep twice during the flight. Confused by the time zones, I lost all sense of time. The little dot on the screen was all I knew, and that was us. We were heading toward northern Europe. Destination was still unknown, but I was calm enough to read
National Geographic
,
mental_floss
, and other magazines on the Kindle that Oswald Gray had given me. What exactly was wrong with me?

My White Rabbit seemed to always be working on his laptop. Without sleeping or slowing his rhythm, he typed, took cell phone calls, but spoke in languages unknown to me. From time to time, he would send me a smile or some polite line. Apart from us, there were two more men in dark suits, younger than Rabbit who looked to be in his early forties. Every time I shot them a sidelong glance, they were sitting there doing nothing, in contrast to Oswald Gray, who seemed allergic to stillness.

No one had asked for my phone, and since cell phone usage was apparently permitted on this flight, I could freely have used it if I liked. So my role of a kidnapped victim wasn’t entirely convincing. It seemed like I should call or text, at least to let someone know where I was. But then, who was I supposed to call? Of course, my parents were out of the question because, really, what would I say?
Hey Mom, Dad, first I left Berkeley, then I was kidnapped and now I am flying over Europe to an unknown destination
.

Yeah, right.

The reason I left in the first place was to find my life. Sorta. To stop comparing myself with the expectations of others. To quit being a supporting role in my own existence. I’d never been on my own; but considering my current situation—maybe that wasn’t bad at all. Still, I felt more relaxed than earlier in the flight—I had left the tension in my stomach over the middle of the Atlantic. I felt bizarrely at ease in all of this absurdity!

Earlier in the hotel, Oswald Gray had asked me if I had a warm coat. It was only after I got off the jet that I realized that my idea of warm wasn’t warm enough.

“Where are we?” I asked, puffing hot clouds of breath into the arctic air and looking at the nearby snow-cowered mountains.

“Tromsø. Northern Norway.” White Rabbit smiled at me.

There was a black SUV and a van waiting for us, both new. We got into the SUV, leaving the van behind. It was a half-hour drive east through the twilight of pastoral Norway toward the blackness of a forest. Perfect.

The road curved as we headed up into a darkness that deepened the farther we went, and I started to feel anxious. I had been flying with these guys for hours! Why would I start feeling anxious again?! Guess the dark was all I needed for my fears to kick back in. Things are not always the way they look; sometimes they’re the way they feel.

Oswald was in the back with me and, sensing my anxiety, he started to get chatty with the other two. He even asked them to change the radio station. Thankfully. The Euro trash music was putting me even more on edge.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

“Just a little,” I lied. The car’s heating still couldn’t remove the chill from my bones.

“We’ll arrive soon. Would you like my coat anyway?”

“No, thank you.”

I was freezing. I’d never been this cold in October. Lights appeared up ahead. Soon, we passed through a sturdy gate and drove ten more minutes, arriving at the final destination: a complex of several dim buildings. We stopped in front of a dark gray, four-story house with a couple of gargoyles sticking out from the façade. How dramatic.

The inside was all dark wood and cardinal red tapestry. Medieval crested shields flanked the walls and swords were displayed in the left corner. Again with the Drama. We were just starting up the main stairs when an entourage appeared.

“Ah, Miss Young, finally!”

A tall, slender man stepped out of the group, grinning at me. His hair was dark, tucked behind the ears; his nose was straight and his suit looked pricy. He approached me with open arms.

“How lovely that you came!”

I stared at him. My mind was flipping between
thank you
and
you kidnapped me
—but since neither of those seemed right, I stuck with silence.

“Nice of you to bring her here, Oswald.” He made a joyful hand gesture. “Let’s not waste any time, shall we? Please show Miss Young to her accommodations.” Then he looked at me. “Get some rest. We shall talk before dinner.”

His porcelain-white face crackled into a smile and he turned and left with the others in tow. Only a girl stayed behind, waiting to show me the way.

“Welcome. I’m Lena,” she said, heading toward the left part of the building. She was petite with narrow shoulders, fair hair and blue eyes. She looked about my age. She was silent as we climbed more stairs and went down another hallway. When she stopped in front of what I assumed was my door, I noticed a weird sign above it.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Those are runes, but I don’t know much of their meaning. You should ask the others.”

Others? That was a bit unclear. Was she avoiding the question? I looked through the open doorway into a spacious room.

“I’ll be outside if you need anything. In an hour, we’ll head to Baldur’s office.” Her smile was hard but polite.

I took a warm shower—bliss. It peeled away the disturbing thoughts I’d recently collected, giving me a new soft and elastic layer of skin. Reborn, I was nicely surprised to find clean clothes left for me over the chair. Black pants and a rose-tinted designer blouse. I hated the color of the blouse, but it was clean and suited me well. I left my dirty clothes in place of the new ones. When I dried my hair and put it in a ponytail, I thought I might have time to lay down a bit, but there was a knock on the door.  Apparently, I had thought wrong— it was time for the talk.

“Everything okay?” Lena looked at me as I left the room. I nodded insecurely.

We passed through the same passages and moved along to another part of the building. She stopped in front of a set of big wooden doors and opened them, but stayed outside. Okay, let’s finish this—a spark of a brave thought.

I entered what seemed to be a library with very old editions of books in glass vitrines. A huge, iron ceiling lamp dominated the room. In the right corner was an antique table holding a laptop, and behind it—the man who had greeted me on the stairs. He patiently waited for me to take in my surroundings.

“Come, sit, Miss Young. My name is Baldur. If I am correct, you are a Berkeley freshman, second semester? What department?”

“L&S, Social Sciences.” My voice was thin—strained.

“Interesting. And what do you plan to major in?”

“Peace and Conflict Studies.” An awkward dread started to crawl up my spine, but for some reason he seemed to find this conversation amusing. He gave a little laugh.

“Ah, the choices are in line with your talent, my dear.”

“What talent?” I couldn’t help but feeling like a scared little girl.

“The one that brought you to us. Now, let’s move on—I am conducting research here.”

Instantly, I pictured myself strapped to a loony chair, a strong light shining into my eyes, waiting for someone in white to give me a shot. My dread grew.

“For all this time, since we discovered the use of that talent which you have, I couldn’t find the adequate way to share the truth and avoid the shock, disbelief, boring questions, et cetera. Oh, such a torment. Ergo, Miss Young, do you believe in vampires?”

His face told me that he was actually waiting for my response. Response? Should I really have a response to such a question?! Suddenly the ball I had been pushing uphill for the last eighteen hours seem to crash down on me. Even Sisyphus himself would have had a good laugh. I mean, there’s only so much stupidity, right? But there he was, still waiting for something to come out of my mouth. Maybe he was some super-rich lunatic and this was his compound, some sect he had founded in the Norwegian wilderness. And here I was, probably soon to be prepared for some ritual that demanded the blood. Why mine?

“Should I?” I asked carefully.

“Probably. Since you are surrounded by them. But it’s up to you.”

It was my turn to laugh, and it came out so awkward. This craziness, this joke, reminded me of Selene’s goth roommate and her stupidity. Violent drawings plastered over her side of the room, white powder and black makeup. Surrounded by them? What did I do wrong in this life to end up in this psycho den?

My lack of comment didn’t seem so amusing to him anymore. With startling speed, he launched himself over the table and flashed his fangs at me.

Friggin’ fangs!!!??

I hit the back of the chair so hard I thought I’d fall through. There were no more thoughts in my head. Only fear.

He returned to his seat with a grin. And no fangs.

“Ah, no worries my dear, we are harmless. I simply thought I’d speed up our meeting. You’re perfectly safe here.” That mischievous look was back on his porcelain face.

Since the first time I’d seen that man, it was impossible to guess his age. He looked to be in his early fifties, but I wasn’t sure anymore.

What had just happened?!

“So, what is your answer now?”

I nodded quickly. I didn’t wait for him to ask me twice, fearing the fangs would reappear. Vampire! Vampires! Surrounded by them?!? My heart was banging maniacally while I tried to understand everything I’d just witnessed. I thought he would hear it—hell, everybody in the building could have.

“Not to sound redundant, but there really is no reason for you to worry about your safety.”

What about fear, I thought.